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#they made me throw my hat into the ring
tea-time221 · 7 months
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yknow, those horns suit you
ive been gone for like 6 months forgive me gang 😍 i forgot posting art on social media was a thing
i hope this doesnt come across as those weird twink x buff fanarts, i just find it infuriating that WYLL (renowned monster hunter, travels frequently) has the same body shape as ASTARION (vampire spawn isolated in a crypt for 200 years thats also been starved frequently) in game
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sunnysssol · 4 months
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Alfred’s tits got me thinking about “cover them up slut” meme
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yeah it does doesn't it 😭 he captions this with "bro is mad i'm stacking dough and gainsmaxxing and he's at home being a bookpilled tumblrcel 🗿" like anyone knows what the fuck those words even mean. alfred f jones big naturals or whatever
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lemme cook 🔥🧊
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landlordevil · 5 months
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I like that all my tavs/durges have romanced different ppl i can't imagine making another tav that works so well w asty considering it seemed like a total fluke. Consistently battling between approval n disapproval, they regularly challenged each other (and that included times eins was callous without realizing just how much their words meant to asty)... like I truly think just playing the game as close to what I *think* my character would do worked so well I would just be trying to recapture that magic if I tried 2 romance him again
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kyojuuros · 2 years
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shotmrmiller · 2 months
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tw: mentions of roofies, murder, then smut:)
cbf!simon would absolutely kill for you.
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cbf!simon has always been your partner in crime.
even in your youth, back when he was built like a daffodil, he was always by your side. kept you safe from the mean girls at school, always got in trouble for throwing hands at boys who made crass comments at you and the like. then he'd left his butcher job to join the military. "I gotta learn how to keep you safe, love. i'll always come back to ya."
and he had. he returned to you almost four times his size; he left a boy and came back a man. down to your very bones, you knew that he would always keep you safe.
which is why he was the first person you called when the guy next to you at the bar roofied your drink. the beer fizzed irregularly and had an almost milky colour even though it was an ipa.
the idiot had dared to smile at you, an oily, crooked grin with yellow teeth, and lifted his own glass to toast with you.
you bolted out of your seat in seconds, heading straight to the ladies' room, and dialed.
he answered on the second ring.
"please come get me." you hadn't meant to sound as terrified as you felt.
"be there in 5," then hung up.
he lived 15 minutes away from the dingy bar.
true to his word, he was there in 5, texting where you were at.
inside the ladies bathroom.
he let himself in, put his jacket around your quivering shoulders, and with a strong, comforting arm, guided you toward the exit and into his truck. simon remained silent as he sat you in the passenger seat, gently pulling the seatbelt over your chest, clicking it into place.
he stood next to you, his hands resting on your jean-clad thighs, waiting patiently for you to explain.
your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you sort out your thoughts. you no longer felt afraid, that much was certain. simon has always been your pillar of strength. there was nothing to fear with him at your side.
so why do your hands continue to tremble? digging deeper, you realize that you're angry. no.
furious.
some imbecile thought he'd take advantage of you. if you'd been any more drunk, you would have been a victim— wound up lifeless in a dirty ditch.
you burned with fury, your blood boiling under your skin. how dare he? how dare he?
simon softly touches your tightly clenched hands, coaxing your fingers to unfurl.
everything pulls hard to port when your eyes land on his disfigured knuckles— scarred by battle. you've never liked what simon did for a living. he just fought and killed people that some higher-up told him were the bad guys.
in war, there is no good or bad side. the field is too soaked in blood for anyone to recognize where the line is if there even was one to begin with.
until now. just this once, you couldn't be more grateful that simon possesses the skills he does.
you make your decision. "there was a guy in there. green hat, ugly brown jacket with yellow, crooked teeth. he drugged my beer, then toasted me so i would drink it."
his hands tighten around yours marginally. "and now i'm here, safe, with you. but he's still in there, with potentially a pocket full of pills, on the lookout for his next victim. how am i supposed to sleep tonight, knowing that if someone goes missing tonight, the blood will be on my hands?"
you cut your eyes to his dark, hardened ones, and the words tumble out of your mouth with surprising ease.
"there's trash in there that needs throwing out, simon."
nothing but a wretched mongrel that needs to be put down.
simon's nod is subtle, but it's there. you exhale a shuddering breath, heart slamming against your ribcage.
he's a gun in your hand, and you've just pulled the trigger.
simon hands you the keys to the truck. "are you sober enough to drive home?" he quietly asks.
hard to keep a buzz when you almost became a victim of—
"yes."
he's opening the glove compartment, taking out his skeleton gloves, and a tac knife that he tucks inside the waistband of his jeans.
"go home. i'll see ya in a bit." his voice is flat, lifeless.
simon closes the door and raps his knuckles on the hood of the truck before heading inside.
and so the elephant marches to war.
-
it's well past midnight when he crawls in through your window. one moment his boots are on the windowsill, the next he's pinning you onto your mattress, hips flush against yours.
his chilly, clean hands lift the hem of your loose shirt, dimpling the soft skin that his fingers dig into— his bare lips grazing the shell of your ear.
"he is no longer a problem."
he grinds his clothed erection against the flimsy fabric of your sleeping shorts.
"you did the right thing by telling me what he did."
simon trails a path of open-mouthed kisses from your ear down to your mouth, licking your bottom lip.
"nothing gets me harder than when my girl looks at me to keep her safe."
your breath hitches when a hand begins to move south, lifting the waistband of your bottoms and sliding his fingers over your slick pussy. "it seems you like it too. does it turn you on, ordering me around like a dog? i bark at your command, pet."
one finger sinks into your wet heat, his groan drowning out your own.
"you like having this much power over me? how easily i bend to your will?" he croons.
there are two fingers in you now, so much thicker than your own, and the way they curl and drag along your nerves has your toes tingling. he takes you to the precipice at frightening speed— the expert hands that kill without remorse are the same ones that are bringing you your pleasure.
he thrusts his fingers into you with an obscene squelch and a thumb circles your slippery clit.
"i'd burn the world to ashes if you asked it of me."
the coil in your stomach is tight, your body tense in anticipation.
"so... would you? would you ask me to bring the world to its very knees?"
the answer sits on the tip of your tongue when you climax around his fingers, walls pulsing rhythmically, arousal dripping from his knuckles.
later will be a good time to reflect on how you don't feel even remotely guilty for what's been done.
for now, you focus on how good simon feels as he slowly sinks into you, splitting you wide open with his heavy cock.
-
simon finds no pills in the guy's pockets. no baggie, no bottle.
nothing.
shame that his little love has declared the guy's life forfeit.
your wish is his command.
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linkspooky · 7 months
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Are You Satisfied?
As you might have heard chapter 236 of Jujutsu Kaisen ends with the death of Gojo Satoru. The fandom is making a pretty big deal about it. As someone who predicted from the beginning that Gojo was going to lose against Sukuna, the reaction is fascinating to me. This is perhaps the most controversial chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen I've ever seen. So I've decided to throw my hat into the ring.
The central theme of Jujutsu Kaisen is death, so the death of one of the main characters isn't too surprising, but what does Gojo's death mean for the story? What does it say about his character?
As I said above I am a little bit shocked by the extreme controversy over Gojo's death. Gojo was never going to win the fight in the first place, because Jujutsu Kaisen is a story and the story would be over if he defeated Sukuna. He'd easily be able to take care of Kenjaku afterwards and the main conflcit would be resolved. Would it really be an interesting story if Gojo one shotted the villains while the kids just wathced on Television?
The story is also not about Gojo, it's about the students. Gojo may think he's the protagonist of reality but he's not the protagonist of the story.
Once again, Jujutsu Kaisen is a story and stories have themes. We may grow personally attached to characters, but characters are just narrative tools to convey the themes of a story, no different from prose, dialogue, and art. Characters are a tool to be used well or used poorly, and sometimes yes that means killing them. Whether Gojo's death was naratively satisfying though isn't the purpose of this post though we're only asking what does it mean?
Finally, Jujutsu Kaisen is not only a fictional story, it's specifically a tragedy. Full disclosure, it's a manga about death.
The Protagonist of a Tragedy
So, number one shout out to me for making this post 4 months ago where I called the way Gojo would end the fight.
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Excuse me while I fist pump for calling it!
The question on everyone's minds is why does one of the most powerful characters in the manga die offscreen in a pretty humiliating way, cut in half and helpless on the ground just like Kaneki. The reason Gojo didn't get a more heroic (or cooler) death is because we're not reading My Hero Academia, this is not a story about heroes or even a typical Shonen manga it is a tragedy.
In poetics Aristotle defines tragedy as:
"an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separate parts of the play; in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions" (51).
To paraphrase a tragedy is about human action, actions characters make in a tragedy often have dire consequences. One of the most common consequences if the reversal of a hero's fortune, a hero of a tragedy usually starts out on top and ends up on the bottom because of the bad choices they make. If in normal shonen manga characters overcome their flaws through effort and persistence, in Jujutsu Kaisen we see characters more often than not lose to their flaws.
The reason I posted that Kaneki panel specifically is because it was a brilliant moment of narrative punishment for Kaneki's central character flaw. Kaneki the hero's main flaw is that he always fights alone, and he constantly makes that same choice over and over again to fight alone. One of the characters helpfully explains it as well.
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Stories are primarily about change. If a character doesn't change they're not serving the plot, unless that specifically is the point. People have pointed out how abrupt it is for Gojo to get sealed in Shibuya, get let out, and then immediately die afterwards but that's kind of the point. Gojo made more or less the exact same choice (he asked for Utahime's help for a buff but otherwise fought the entire battle himself). The definition of insanity and what not, why would doing the same thing over and over again net him a different result?
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Not only did Gojo choose to fight alone, but as I've been hammering on and on about in previous meta the entire fight Gojo cared more about fighting a strong opponent then he did saving Megumi, the child he was responsible for.
Jujutsu Kaisen is not a typical shonen manga where everything is resolved by beating a strong villain in a fight. That's specifically why I used the Tokyo Ghoul reference, because the reason Kaneki is defeated offscreen like that is because he thought the world worked like a shonen manga. He has a fantasy sequence where he's fighting Juzo in a shonen battle tournament like this is Yu Yu Hakusho right before it snaps back to reality and he's limbless on the ground.
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Gojo is a major character in the manga Jujutsu Kaisen, literally "Sorcery Fight" and he is the best sorcerer in the whole world. His entire identity revolves around being a sorcerer. Since he is so good and beloved at what he does, he thinks that everything is resolved by exorcising a curse or defeating a strong opponent. He has basically no identity outside of that. Which is why when he's fighting the possessed body of his student, a person he's been mentoring since childhood his priority is not to save Megumi but to beat a strong opponent. Gojo is a sorcerer, before a human being. That's who he is, that's who he always has been since day one.
I think part of the negative fan reaction comes from fans being really attached to this scene in the manga and deciding Gojo's entire character revolves around being a good mentor figure to children.
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Which is just incorrect, Gojo's entire character revolves around being the strongest. On top of that though, Gojo can care about children and also care about being the strongest he can care about multiple things at once and have those things contradict each other because humans are complicated. I'd point out even in this panel where he's stating motivation he's not trying to raise these kids up into being healthy adults, he wants them to be strong Jujutsu Sorcerers. Even when he's raising kids, his intention is to turn them into Jujutsu Sorcerers because everything in Gojo's mind revolves around Jujutsu Sorcery. Gojo does not exist outside of the world of sorcerers. Gojo may be the chosen one but he'd never be able to hold down a job at Mcdonalds.
I think in general readers put more investment in the things characters say out loud, rather than their actions. You can say one thing and do another. I can say "I should never eat sweets again I'm going to improve my diet", and then go and eat ice cream five hours later. Gojo can state out loud his intention to foster children and protect their youths, but then fail to properly do that in the story. Characters are not always what they say they are, that's why they're interesting to interpret. This isn't me calling the readers stupid, just pointing out that Gojo is made up of contradictions. He wants to get rid of the old guard and replace them with something new, but Gojo IS THE OLD GUARD.
If the culling games arc has shown us one thing, it's that ancient sorcerers brought to the modern age do not care that much about human life on an individual level, they are all of them egoists. There's a reason Gojo resembles someone like Sukuna more than he does any other character in the manga. I'm not saying Gojo is exactly like Sukuna, he's far more altruistic and uses his genuinely noble ideals but at the same time Sukuna is a shadow archetype to Gojo he represents Gojo's flaws. The flaws that Gojo succumbs to in tragic fashion.
Which if you believe that Gojo genuinely does love his students, and the ideal he's fighting for is to raise up a better generation and allow them to live out their youths, then Gojo throughout the entire Sukuna fight is acting against those ideals. He cares far more about fighting Sukuna then he does saving Megumi, it's shown over and over again in the battle, Megumi is an afterthought to him. If Gojo care moredefeating the big bad and saving the world is more important than helping a child that Gojo is responsible for then Gojo is acting against his stated principles. Why should Gojo win the fight when he's fighting for all the wrong reasons?
Tragedies are like visual novels, if you make the wrong choice the novel will give you a red flag. If you ignore the red flag then you get locked into the route with the bad ending. Gojo always fights alone. Gojo only ever fights for himself, even if he's using that selfishness in support of a more noble ideal like creating a better generation of sorcerers. If Gojo consecutively makes the same changes then in a tragedy he's not going to be rewarded for it.
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Gojo wants the old generation out and the new generation in, but Gojo resembles the old generation too much. Old sorcerers like Hajime and Sukuna respect him, Hajime argues that Gojo being able to fight for his pride is far more important than him living to the end of the battle when Yuta wanted to interfere and help him.
Gojo's death isn't a surprise curve ball that Gege is throwing us for shock value, it's a result of his choices throughout the manga. A manga about change, and the change between generations is not going to punish a character for remaining roughly the same. Of course you might find it disappointing that Gege didn't give Gojo the chance to grow and change and experience a character arc like Megumi or Yuji, but Jujutsu Kaisen is a tragedy, and the way Gojo's arc ended is consistent with what Gege wrote.
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Jujutsu Kaisen is not just a tragedy though, it's a manga about death. The manga begins with Yuji's grandfather warning him not to die alone the way that he did. His grandfather's dying words are what motivate Yuji throughout the beginning of the manga as he's searching for a "proper" death.
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One of the major themes of Yuji's character is a contemplation of death. He accepts that death is inevitable, so he wants to save them from the gruesome deaths they'd experience if they became victims to curses and allow them to have a more satisfying death. Yuji's grandpa died an unsatisfying death because he died alone in a hospital room. Yuji even tries to make his own death a satisfying one because he believes by dying to seal away Sukuna he'll reduce the total number of casualties to curses.
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Jujutsu Kaisen keeps investigating the theme of death and what exactly would make for a satisfying death. At one point it's all but stated that death is the mirror that makes humans analyze their lives.
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When Yuji fails to save Junpei from the "unnatural death" it calls into question whether or not his goal of saving people from unsatisfying deaths and the gruesome deaths caused by curses is even feasible. Nanami even says that Yuji might not be able to accomplish his goal and warns him away from the path.
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We see repeated unsatifying deaths in the manga, each time someone reflecting on their deaths that they weren't able to get what they wanted out of life. This list comes via @kaibutsushidousha by the way I'm quoting them.
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Nanami's a character who chose to work as a sorcerer because he didn't want to evade the responsibility of doing all you can to help people, he wanted to believe he's somewhere where he's needed. He never runs away from responsibility like Mei Mei does so he quite literally works himself to death, living and dying as a sorcerer. Nanami or Gojo's dying hallucination of Nanami even says as much, his death is the result of him choosing to go south and returning to be a sorcerer.
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Maki chose revenge against the Zen'in over her sister, and as a result Mai is dead. Maki has all the power in the world now, her revenge complete but she's left with a sense of "now what?" She's as strong as Toji now but she failed to protect her sister, and it's the result of the choices she made. Maki's reflection isn't triumph, it's "I should have chosen to die with her."
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Even Yuji himself is robbed of his narrative purpose. The manga began with Yuji saying he wants to choose how he's going to die and he'll die taking out Sukuna with him so he can reduce the number of people killed by curses in the world. Both of those things are thrown in Sukuna's face. Number one the amount of people Yuji can save by permanently killing Sukuna is now a moot point because he let Sukuna rampage in Shibuya.
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Number two, Sukuna isn't even in Yuji anymore. To build on what Comun said though, this repeated tragedy has a purpose to it and understanding requires understanding that Jujutsu Kaisen is an existentialist manga. Existentialism is basically a school of philosophy centered around the question of "Why do I exist?"
There's nothing about the invetability of death to make you question why you're alive in the first place. In the myth of Sispyhus, Albert Camus boils down all of philosophy to one question.
"There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. "
All of philosophy is should I shoot myself in the head or should I keep living? Everything comes after that question, which is why in Jujutsu Kaisen a lot of the characters motivations revolve around them contemplating death. Sorcerers exist in a world where they can die any moment, and as Gojo says most of them die alone. It might be the nature of sorcery itself that causes so many people to die, not only are they dying because they are trapped in an uncaring system, but the characters themselves aren't really attempting to live outside of it. They live and die as sorcerers, replaceable cogs in the machine.
All of these unsatisfying deaths may just be the result of all these characters making one choice, to live as sorcerers rather than people. Because to exist means to live in the world.
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Even in Mechamaru's case, his goal is deeply existentialist by what I defined, all he wants to do is live in the world with everyone else rather than be stuck in his hospital room but his actions contradict that goal. Instead of letting his friends come and visit he's obsessed with the idea of getting a normal body because he feels that's the only way he can exist with everyone else, he makes a deal with the devil, he lies and goes behind their backs. He wasn't living with everyone else in the world and he could have chosen to, he chose wrong and his death is the result of that choice.
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Jujutsu Sorcerers aren't living in the world. They're living in a little snowglobe far removed from the world with its own rules, most of them regressive and disconnected from the rest of society. If you define existentialism as just "living in the world' then a lot of these characters aren't, because they only exist in the world of sorcery.
INVISIBLE BUFFY: What are you talking ab- SPIKE: The only reason you're here, is that you're not here. (drinking) INVISIBLE BUFFY: Right. Of course, as usual there's something wrong with Buffy. She came back all wrong. (moving around on the bed) You know, I didn't ask for this to happen to me. SPIKE: Not too put off by it though, are you? (drinking) INVISIBLE BUFFY: No! Maybe because for the first time since ... I'm free. She tosses the sheet aside. Spike looks around, trying to figure out where she's going. INVISIBLE BUFFY: Free of rules and reports ... free of this life. SPIKE: Free of life? Got another name for that. Dead.
Not living in the world with everyone else is the same as being dead.
A lot of these characters either make the choice to act alone, or be a jujutsu sorcerer rather than a person and because of that they die as sorcerers, b/c sorcerers die that's what they do. Mai didn't want to keep living as a hindrance to Maki so she kills herself. Maki didn't want to be anything other than a sorcerer, so her little sister dies and she's not a big sister anymore. Nanami chose to leave his job behind and become a sorcerer again, he dies as one.
Of course I don't think the manga is punishing characters for being too egotistical, but rather too unbalanced. If anything Mai is too selfless and that is why she died, she didn't want to live for herself and chooses self sacrifice for her sister. An unbalance between selfishness or selflessness results in an underdeveloped ego. Jujutsu Kaisen doesn't punish individualism per se, moreso if you're not a fully developed individual you won't last long. Because it's also a manga about growing up in the world, and a person who doesn't have a healthy, mature, well-balanced sense of self is not a grown up.
This twitter user det_critics points out that Gojo (and also Yuki + Yuji's) failures in the manga can be attributed to the fact they don't have real senses of self.
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Gojo has an identity crisis as outlined by Geto, "are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest, or are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo?"
It's a challenge for him to find some reason to live outside of being the strongest, and in tragic fashion Gojo just doesn't find it in time. Gojo lived for fighting others, and proving to himself that he's the strongest, and that's how he dies.
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There's something I like to say about narrative punishment in stories. There are two ways to punish a character, you either don't give them what they want, or you give them exactly what they want. This is the latter, Gojo wanted to find someone stronger than him because deep down he believed that nobody could understand him unless they were on his level. He wanted to be surpassed, and that's why he focused on creating stronger young sorcerers, but he never shook himself of the belief that only someone as strong or even stronger than he was could ever be emotionally attached to him so he made a deliberate choice to draw a line between himself and others.
Gojo's essentially gotten what he wanted from that choice in the worst way possible. The student he picked to succeed him Megumi, has his body stolen and kills him. Gojo is surpassed, but it's not by one of his own students it's by an enemy that's not only trying to kill Gojo but is going to massacre his students afterwards.
Gojo's spent his entire life believing that because he's more powerful that makes him inherently different and above others, and being lonely because he himself believed he couldn't relate to ordinary people and he dies like an ordinary person, an unsatisfying death where he wasn't able to bring out Sukuna's best, where he gets unceremoniously cut in half offscreen but yay he's no longer the strongest. He's gotten exactly what he wanted. Megumi is still not saved, Sukuna's probably going to kill more people because Gojo failed to stop him here, but hey at least he stopped to compliment Gojo.
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It's empty, but it's empty because of the choices Gojo made in life to just not bother connecting to people or develop any kind of identity besides being a sorcerer. Gojo lives and dies as a sorcerer, and his dying dream is returning to a teenager being surrounded by everyone he was with during his school days, because that's the happiest time in his life. Ironically he was happier before he became the strongest, because that was the only time in his life that he allowed himself to connect to people.
However in the eyes of others, he is someone who has it all. That's why he is always alone. There was no one who could hold the same sentiments and mutually understand him. Geto was the only one who could understand what he was trying to say, and the only one who could communicate well with him.
It's no coincidence Gojo and Geto die exactly a year apart on the same day, if anything I'd say the reasons they die are similiar to at least thematically. They both die because they don't want to live in the world. Geto thinks the world is too corrupt and GOjo doesn't want to be anything other than a sorcerer, both of them fail to adapt.
「 'It's just. . .' It's just that it was what Geto had to do. [...] To someone like him, the reality that the world of sorcerers presented to him was just too cruel. '. . .that in a world like this, I couldn't truly be happy from the bottom of my heart.'」
They can't be happy in a world like this from the bottom of their hearts, so narratively they both die. The things they chose to live for at the end of their life they fail to accomplish, Gojo is no longer the stronget, Geto fails to wipe out mankind or make major changes to the world and they die as normal people unsatisfied because they weren't trying to live in the world and make connections to others. They die almost karmically a year apart because their main connection for both of them, the thing which made them feel connected to the world and other people was each other.
Which is why this panel breaks my heart and is so narratively satisfying because of how unsatisfying it is...
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"If you were among those patting my back... then I might've been satisfied."
Gojo reflects that he's not satisfied dying against Sukuna, not because he failed to give him a good enough challenge but because Geto wasn't there to pat him on the back. The one thing that would have satisfied him he couldn't have, because he didn't live to connect to people he lived to be the strongest and he died alone as the strongest. There's just something deeply upsetting about Gojo's dying dream fantasy just him being there talking with all of his dead friends who he never appreciated or connected to properly when he was alive. Knowing that if something had just gone a little differently, that even if he had to die no matter what he could have died happier if Geto was among the people saying goodbye to him because that connection with Geto is what gave his life meaning.
Dazai Osamu: "A life with someone you can say good-bye to is a good life, especially when it hurts so much to say it to them. Am I wrong?" -Bungou Stray Dogs Beast
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pjackk · 4 months
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If u have any conections in the online community please let me know and contact me cuz i need to find out how to buy Www.TheSadTruth.Net to tell my story for the first time on my own terms one last time wich despite it all still rings true even though i was built fucked up and my mind was made to be horible from the very start and ive been havign a hard time lately and realy strugling with my problems and shit and they raised the price of the green juice lime botles si uts realy hard for me to even aford basic necesities of my shitty excuse for a life i cant even make my #FamouisCubanBurban cocktale anymore to go with my cigars im not even able to aford a good stogie every day no more and ive had to downgrade from pappy 23 to pappy 20 fuck my shitty ass life and i just need to be able to let everybody kno how much they have skull fucked me in the ass all the time epecially since the feds and the mens in black at the variuos "Federal" criminal agencies got involved with my phone gig they i was honetly trying to find new friends with my phone and i didnt even mean to take nobodys money or nothin they just gave me the gift cards as a gift for me since they liked me alot so now im on my l;ast legs and cant aford rent anymore since my landlord #BeheadTheLandlors is trying to kick me out of my mental health meditation pad that i need for tranquilaty and self care in hawaiey not to mention #BigGov is not even leting me throw grenades for fishing no more so i guess that was my last ffcking bluefin i will ever get so they are making it super hard for me to even live at a base level and i realy need help and suport u can send me cash on my app called Cash App at $pjack9 if u want to mutual aid me up i will not forget my friends if i get out of this slump but i miht not ever post again since i will be long gone so fuck it i think its time i hoist the white flag bvut my enemys dont even want to see me a live even if im sitting cuteley like a puppy dog they will still blow my iron skull off at the drop of a top hat so just keep me posted if there is anything U would like to serve me with i realy like: Twunks, jocks, tweekers, scratchoffs, CigarPigs, MoneyPigs, PiggyBanks, and Goon Hunniez so dm me yo junk imediately if u want to make me feel so good
The wolves are at my fucking door and I cant keep them out.
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mbthomastumblesagain · 4 months
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The Viv I knew is dead and gone.
I was hoping not to talk about this since, in all honesty, it's really a nothing burger. But since there's been drama with Vivienne Medrano and Spindlehorse, some of it worth talking about, some not, I feel like I need to throw my hat into the ring. I remember looking at Viv's work on DA back in the early 2010s and being intrigued and impressed. I even did some fan art for her multiple times for her birthday. When she announced that she needed assistance on her thesis film "Timber," I was happy to sign up. I also helped clean up "Die Young," and soon after, Viv and I had a good rapport. Until one day, on Facebook, I joked about wanting to work on my original projects but couldn't because I was helping Viv. I believe it went something like this, "Working on Die Young when you have some original ideas to focus on be like: "Please, mam, I want to see my wife and children." At first, she took it well and laughed it off. But then she treated me harshly and said she didn't appreciate the joke. I apologized, and we didn't mention it again. Until she started having a rage fit over a Zootopia and how their name was basically the same as Zoophobia (yeah, remember that?). I simply said on one of her Tumblr posts that what really mattered was how they handled the story and that the name was coincidental. Her fans didn't take that well and even said I needed to be beaten or killed for daring to not play on either side. I told Viv about this on FB, and she said I deserved it for making that joke from 2 years ago. We eventually talked it out and went back on good terms.
As time went by, we became more distant. She became busy with her projects, which were "Helluva Boss" and "Hazbin Hotel." I supported her through Patreon and even congratulated her on her Discord, thinking she remembered me fondly. It was only until Anime Pasadena that I would be proven wrong. I stood in line, hoping to chat with her about the animation industry and her projects and catch up. Despite being friends on Facebook and talking numerous times on social media, she acted like she had never seen me before. Even after hinting at some of the things I've done for her, she still acted dismissively towards me.
That's when it finally clicked in my mind: "The Vivienne Medrano I remember is dead and gone and is never coming back." It also made me look at all the criticisms she's received in a completely different light and that the stories about what goes on at Spindlehorse were all true. To everyone who has worked at SH mistreated by Viv and her crew, you have all my condolences and respect.
EDIT: for the crowd that likes to say "pics or it didn't happen"... Bonus: Proof that I worked on Die Young. This was the closest thing to any "payment" I got from Viv.
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saberlight1 · 5 months
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nurturing — billy the kid
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pairing: billy bonney x fem!reader
warnings: mentions of violence, death, trauma, sickness, established relationship, reader is also a gunslinger, Y/N usage, standard billy the kid warnings.
authors note: yes i love this man so bad. him in billy the kid deadass altered my brain chemistry lmao. this fic is based off of this request— please, continue to send me your ideas and whatnot, i love reading them! i hope you enjoy <3
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When you woke up, that unusual ringing in your ears, that pounding in your head, and the scratchiness of your throat— you knew you had fallen ill. One of the boys in the gang, or hell, maybe even someone you had came across had given you something— you didn’t really want to know.
You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you pulled the covers closer to you, attempting to sleep away the sickness. You didn’t want to get up to go to the doctors nor did you have enough money to even pay one. So you did what you do best— ignoring the problem completely.
You fell back asleep easily, sleeping the day and night away completely. When your eyes first fluttered open due to the sunlight intruding on your slumber, you thought you were free from the confines of your illness, but you were mistaken.
The second you sat up, all symptoms that were now arguably worse returned within an instant, causing you to get dizzy. You crashed back down instantly, a whine leaving your lips. Your muscles ached from staying in bed all day, and you wanted a damn drink— a real one. And you wanted to see your cowboy.. so bad. But with the pounding in your head feeling just as powerful as your heartbeat, the thought of even moving made you want to throw up.
And it did— you wanted to cry as you were forced to rush to the trash can in the corner. After 5 minutes of throwing up, your stomach finally relented. You carried yourself back over to your bed, the exhaustion taking over once again.
Hours later, a soft yet powerful knock on your door woke you up with a jump. Your eyebrows knitted as you heard the knocks only get louder. Now alert and awake, you slowly reached for your gun-belt that was neatly rested on your bedside table, grabbing your loaded pistol and cocking it. You used the pistol to slightly lift up the curtain to your window— it was raining, and it was night.
No one good could be paying you a visit at this hour.
You crept over to the door, the knocks only increasing in volume. You slowly turned the handle, your gun tightly in your grip— finger ghosting over the trigger. Adrenaline and anxiety coursed through your veins, you didn’t even feel sick anymore.
The door creaked open, and you pointed the pistol at whoever was out there before you revealed your form.
“Jesus, lady.” Billy’s soft laugh hit your ears, making you lower the gun instantly, placing it on the table by the door. “Stayin’ ready, huh?”
A heavy sigh of relief left your lips as you silently walked into his arms, your head resting on his shoulder as your headache began to form again. His arms wrapped around you quickly, the tip of his hat hitting your head when he leaned down to leave a kiss on your hair.
“You alright, honey?” He whispered, still holding you. “Been wonderin’ where you were. Supposed to meet me at the stables earlier.”
You sighed, completely forgetting your plans with the man. “I’m sorry, Billy,” Your hoarse voice whispered. “I’m sick, I been asleep all day.”
His eyebrows knitted together in concern immediately, as he pushed you off his shoulder to cradle your face in his hands gently. “How bad is it?”
“Just feel like shit,” You chuckled, sending a smile to his face. “I’m okay, Billy.”
His eyes clouded with worry. “C’mon, let’s get you in— away from this storm before it gets you sicker.” He ushered you in. “You seen a doctor yet?” He asked.
“Nah, I didn’t think it would get worse, plus it’s not like I got the money to pay one. Tried to sleep it off, I felt too bad yesterday to get out of bed at all.” You responded as you went to lay down. He tucked your gun back into its holster, before he went to refill your water.
He came back a moment later, a glass of water and a wet rag in hand.
“Thank you,” You whispered as you took a sip, as he placed the wet rag on the back of your neck.
He hummed back to you, laying down next you once you put the water aside, bringing you into his arms.
“You gotta tell me when you’re sick, darlin’.” He whispered to you in the moon lit room. “Can’t loose you to somethin’ like that. Happened to me too many times.”
“I’m sorry, Billy.. I— I don’t mean to worry you.” You said, looking up at him.
“You don’t gotta apologize, baby, just tell me next time so I can come take care of you, y’know?” He smiled, a lovey smile on his lips as he bent down to leave a kiss on your nose. “What can of man would I be if I left my lady to lay sick alone?” He pinched your side slightly, a giggle escaping your lips.
“I reckon you’d be a regular ole’ cowboy.” You joked.
“Well, luckily for you, I happen to be an outlaw.” He chuckled as he leaned down to kiss you— but your finger pressed into his lips stopped him. He looked at you, offended.
“I don’t want to get you sick,” You told him, your smile now more teasing.
“I don’t give a damn about some cold, baby.” He pushed your hand out the way, pressing his lips against yours in an instant, the man kissing you passionately— as if you possessed the air he so very needed. He pulled back, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. “Haven’t seen you in days, missed the feelin’ of your lips.” He muttered against your lips before connecting them again, his words sending shivers down your spine, your arms wrapping around his neck.
You felt comfort in the fact that you’d always have your outlaw to be there to make you feel better, no matter what.
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alice-blogs-things · 5 months
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I hadn't wanted to make any speculations about why Fourten is back (in-universe reasons, I mean) in case I was proven wrong, but after tonight's episode I want to throw my hat into the ring now. Specifically, after the Timeless Child and the Flux was brought up.
Fourten is a comfort face. That's my current guess. Thirteen had her whole sense of herself shaken by the Timeless Child reveal. And then everything that happened during Flux only made it worse. Fourten is the regenerational equivalent of someone who's just survived something traumatic surrounding themselves with things from their past that makes them feel safe.
Maybe that's why the Doctor's gone back to the Temple-Nobles, as well. A chance to catch their breath between new faces and new people and new everything, to take a bit of time to be with old friends with an old face. Another chance to have a laugh with his best friend. To hug the man he'd have been proud to be the son of. To be reassured that Sylvia's much the same, that Shaun's a good husband, that everything they did meant something in the end, even if it had to be memory wiped.
That's why this is happening, it's a buffer period for the Doctor to get their bearings. Which then leads me to think that the regeneration is going to come because they're going to be reminded that they need to keep moving on, even if it's painful and confusing and they don't like it. And that's gonna be where Fifteen comes in, I think.
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blacknedsoul-blog · 5 months
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Montresor is the Bad Ending of White Raven
So Montresor has a religious trauma. And from what little we know of the flashback to his death, the man was apparently a corrupt preacher.
What that tells me about his life made me crack my knuckles, because holy shit, this guy is an even better villain than I expected. And not for the reasons I thought at first.
Montresor's possible backstory
A fun fact: "unholy men" used to be called "sons of Belial". Same as Monty's Spectre type, so there's the initial connection, but with what we saw in chapter 87, this phrase from his mother resonates quite a bit:
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Montresor was most likely a bastard (literally), and if he was raised in a religious community, that immediately made him and his mother outcasts. Possibly his mother hated him for "ruining her life". Whether this is true or not, the implication is that he grew up a victim of a system that decided he was sucked by the devil from birth.
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In this light, Montresor's attitude towards the world is actually a logical consequence: he has decided that abuse is the only way to relate, and you can either be the victim or the victimizer. Of course, he is now the victimizer.
But he decided that because life taught him two lessons that were important enough to make him the person he is now.
"I know this game better than anybody"
We know from the clothes and hat in his flashback, and the cross around his neck, that Montresor was a preacher. And I would venture to say an excellent one: he has heard all his life that he is a demon, he knows better than anyone what terror hell produces in people, so he knows exactly what to say (or not say) to manipulate others through that fear.
Montresor, like Annabel, is someone who exploits his own traumas.
Annabel has been almost conditioned to behave like the perfect high-society lady, and that includes going to impressive extremes if it means getting something in return. She has engineered her way through life by identifying the currency of the people around her and knowing exactly what to give them so that they will, in her words "kissing her rings".
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Loyalty gained through fear vs. loyalty gained through pretended sympathy.
Same goal.
If the world has made them that way, both Annabel and Montresor will use every last footnote of knowledge gained through trauma to get what they want.
But then there's something else they have in common: this deep knowledge of the rules of the game has also made them both know that the odds are too stacked against them to ever win. In the past, we've seen Annabel throw in the towel on her arranged marriage, but Montresor took a different path, much more along the lines of…
"So I'm not afraid to cheat."
Montresor decided that if people wanted a demon. He would give them one. The worst demon of all, because this one knows the rules: he knows how to play the game, he knows how to cheat and get away with it. We don't know the extent of his atrocities, but given what happened in the flashback and the fact that his idea of a sleepover is stuffing someone behind a wall to slowly suffocate, this guy must have a long rap sheet.
So long, in fact, that he was tied to the tracks of a train to be torn to shreds without even a trial.
Because if the rules are just there to screw you, then screw them: the only option left is to cheat.
Which is exactly what Lenore did when she burned down her house and pretended to be a man to go after Annabel. Lenore jeopardized everything Annabel said was important to her.
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And she got away with it. At least until they were both killed (or, if those of us with our chips on Annabel's childhood friend, they may have both died without anyone knowing).
Now, in Nevermore, Lenore is still doing that, as we can see in her reluctance to kill or destroy Montresor: she refuses to play the game, refuses to follow the rules.
She will look for ways to cheat here, as she did before (something Annabel actually expects her to do). The woman is too stubborn to bend, and so far she seems to have the wind at her back (the question is, for how long?).
The bad ending
These elements make Montresor a complete exhibition of the ultimate consequences of taking Annabel and Lenore's attitudes to the extreme: a person who instrumentalizes her own traumas to unravel and try to inflict them on others, and who is not afraid to cheat for her own benefit if it means getting what she wants.
The only thing that separates Annabel and Lenore from Montresor is that they both still use these attitudes in the name of other people: Annabel for Lenore herself, and Lenore for the people she cares about. That both of them (still) seem to have their hearts in the right place.
But if Annabel continues to use her vast knowledge of this twisted game to work her way through people without caring, and Lenore still believes she's above all rules, here's Montresor to show them (and us) what's waiting for them at the end of the road.
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upsidedownwithsteve · 5 months
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DAY FIVE: Eddie Munson x fem!reader 18+
“That’s way too steep.”
Behind you, the boy snorted. “Nah, c’mon, babe. S’fine.”
You’d spent the entire afternoon throwing yourself down hillsides with Eddie and the rest of his friends, watching the kids with wide eyes as they went down head first, sliding on trash can lids and stolen cafeteria trays. And when each of their noses got too red, too cold, fingers frostbitten and numb, they’d stumbled home one by one until it was only you and Eddie left.
He’d monopolised the only good sledge from the get go, throwing snowballs at anyone who tried to wrestle him for it. He didn’t need to try too hard to get you on it with him, looking far too handsome with pink cheeks and snowflakes caught in his curls. One smug lift of his brows and you’d been between his spread legs, nestled to his front as you let him push you both down into piles of snow.
And now, alone with you in the twilight, he grew braver, grabbing at your waist to pull you in tighter, letting his frozen nose skim at the space between your hair and woollen hat. The sky was pink even though the sun was long gone, a deep, dusty rose with huge clouds, the kind of sky that promised more snow.
“If we fall off, you owe me a hot chocolate, Munson.”
Eddie snorted, pulling you against him, closer still. He arched his hips, pushing into your ass and even though he couldn’t see your face from your position, you bit down on a grin.
He wasn’t as smooth as he thought.
“Sweetheart, I’m wounded.” Eddie placed a ringed hand against his heart. “You think I’d let my girl fall?”
You shrugged, a barely seen move under your bulky winter jacket but you squirmed all the same, bum shifting backwards on the cheap backwards sledge until you heard Eddie stifle a grunt.
There was too much between you both, thick denim jeans and the tails of scarves, layers of wool and cotton. But still, you felt something - someone - twitch against the small of your back, just curving over your ass.
You snorted, covered it up with a cough and then made a show of leaning forward, as if peering over the edge of the stupidly high hill Eddie had perched you both on. “That’s like, a ninety degree angle, Eddie.”
It was Eddie’s turn to laugh. “And everyone says I’m dramatic,” he tsked. “Here, just hold onto me, s’fine.”
So you wiggled your way back into the boy, into the cradle of his hips, shifting and sighing until your ass was pressed into his crotch and you were more sure than ever that you could feel his cock pressed against you. You pretended to stretch, moaning slightly at the arch of your back and the click of your neck and you didn’t stop running yourself back onto the boy until he was swearing into your hair.
His hands grabbed at your waist, fingers digging into your jacket.
“Quit it,” he groaned, trying to sound annoyed.
“Edward Munson,” you gasped, theatrical as your boyfriend liked to be. You peered over your shoulder at him, at his flushed cheeks and heavy lidded eyes. “Are you hard right now?”
“As a fuckin’ rock, sweetheart,” Eddie admitted with zero shame, even less hesitation.
“This is a public space,” you tutted, ignoring the way he glared at you.
“It’s your fuckin’ fault—”
“There’s a kids play park not even a stones throw—”
He was scowling now, face beetroot. “Hey, you started this! With your wiggling ‘n squirming about ‘n shit.”
“You’re diabolical,” you whispered, all faux outrage. But your eyes were glittering. “What I’m I gonna do with you?”
Eddie grinned and he didn’t notice the snow start to fall again. He blinked down at you, brown eyes full of mischief. “Take me home and fuck me, hopefully.”
“Eddie!”
But he was already moving, lifting himself up from the sledge and he laughed when you squealed, the shift in weight making the red plastic tip. Your ass landed in snow, the strip of exposed skin between your jeans and your jacket shocked with the cold.
“First one to the van gets to come first,” the boy declared and by the time you got your bearings, Eddie was half way down the hill, curls flying as he kicked up snow behind him.
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ellieverkuasidees · 3 months
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Warm Blankets!
Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Bimbo!reader
a/n: it's time for me to throw my hat into the ring and finally post for my favorite type of reader! >.< def will show off my oc for this one >:)
synopsis: you and your buff manz(pluz pets!) just kinda lay there and do nothing all day ╰(▔∀▔)╯
tags: fluff, cuddling, simon proposing in a personal space because he doesn't take me as a person who'd propose in public, just overral being cute (´。• ω •。`)
wrds:
it was a lazy sunday. finally simon came back from his missions this week and had a lot of time to be with you. stood at the door, awaiting him. you could hear simon's loud and strong combat boots at the steps, the keys jiggling. you were basically a puppy waiting for her owner to come home. meanwhile the actually puppy wags her tail and yaps.
'shh! riley quiet! he can hear you!' you whispered at the pup, turning her head at you with confusion. 'I can already hear 'yer through the door sweets." simon chuckled through the door. you gasped, picking up riley and scooting behind the couch.
when simon stepped through the door, he saw your little my melody onesies and it's ears. 'baby i can see you.' he laughed, moving over to see you holding riley in your arms as you pout. 'simmy? HIII!!' you squealed. you set riley down as she moved forwards and leaped on his legs. he picked you up and kissed you plush lips.
oh to be home with you. a place of comfort and warmth. 'oh! wait! I have a gift for you!' you jumped off of simon as he furrowed his eyebrow. he took off his mask, scars covering his face as he smiled. riley left his side and followed you upstairs with a yap.
the both of you came back with a blanket of silks and blankets. 'okay! so, i got you a cute..wait for it! kuromi onesie! so we can match. you, me, and riley! she can be pompompurin.'
simon laughed at your adorable mind. so pliant and cute. 'you got this for me?' you nodded as you squealed and handed him the suit. usually, he'll shout at you and cut the poor thing into pieces. but just for you, and only you will he wear something like that.
'this thing? oh god..'
a few minutes later, you see the buffest and burliest kuromi ever seen. you screamed and ran up to simon as he chuckled. god forbid any of his teammates see him like this. 'is this what you wanted?' he asked.
you nodded. 'yes! ah! you look so cute! I got you kuromi because I knew you like black so I got this one for you!' how nice of you! always looking after him. never ending. 'thank you lovie, what are your plans tonight?' your eyes looked up and hummed. 'i dunno! wait! we can watch scary movies! and make like a fort pillow!'
'pillow fort hunny?' you nodded, 'yup! lemme warm up the blankets!' you swiftly left to go to the laundry room, your little slippers tapping and riley following after you as she yapped.
simon shook his head with a crooked smile as he started to pull out some chairs and nearby pillows. he couldn't wait to give you your new gift. a pretty little ring with a nice hot pink rock on top. he can't think of anyone else to come home to but you. his little angel. you were basically made for him. and he wanted to keep you forever.
'okay! i'm back! i have the blankets I want to use for the building process and others are drying okay! so! place the chairs here and-'
he wasn't listening to you. not because you were boring. more like he was just admiring you. he does it everyday. no matter where he's at. on base, duty or even at home. sleeping in the comfort of your arms and warmth, he's always thinking and admiring you.
though your brain is small, your heart was big and ready to share your love with others. you still couldnt do long division and even though keep asking and calling how the ish washer works even though you've been living on your own for years now. sometimes it scares and surprises simon how you lived so long on your own.
'are you even listening babe?' you huffed at him. he stammered and looked up at you. 'y-yeah i am.'
'good! now help me!' you moved one chair to the side and another to the back and give it a little friend as you like to call it. and simon lifted onto the other side of the fort. he drapped over a soft fuzzy white comforter and set the pillows inside, having a beautiful floor decor with a hello kitty blanket. you shoved some stuffies and a chew toy for the pup.
'oh! the blankets are done!' you swoop yourself across the house, again riley still following only lagging behind due to you being a lot faster and bigger than her. simon took out the ring, looking over his shoulder to see if you were still there. no? great. he tucked it under the pillows. he knew your dumb little brain wouldn't figure out where he placed his gift.
'simon! I need help please!' you shouted across the house. simon lifted himself up with a grunt. signally that he was coming to your rescue. when he arrived at the laundry room, he found his sweet girlfriend overwhelmed by huge pink and black blankets. riley was gnawing on one of the blankets and trying all her might to drag it back to the living room.
'I gotcha' ' simon took the weight off of you and carried the warm and fluffy blankets. he started to place some on top of the chairs and fluff them out. you were sti struggling, they were weighted blankets, you came back to see a nicely made fort by your boyfriend.
'ooh! so warm! what are we watching?' you plopped down under the fort, hugging your boyfriend's beefy arm. simon's other hand held the remote, scrolling through the catalog. 'maybe legally blonde eh? you're just like her. smart in your own way, but still a little silly' he said as he slightly tapped your head as you squished up. riley laid in between you and him. her nose was deep into the blanket, barking and growling at it. simon was starting to get worried. his smart little pup might spoil the surprise!
'riley! no! not on my clean sheets! no!' you scolded her as you picked up her small body and moved her to your right side. simon sighed, mentally of course. he was so thankful that you were dumb. if you had any sense, you'd at least ask or try to figure out what's under that pillow. 'well, yeah! i'll watch it.'
simon played the movie, the intro quickly grabbing your attention. you were basically drooling over the early to late 2000's fashion. the pink. the fits,the way they speak. gosh you just wanted to jump into ellie's world and just kiss her and be her best friend. all that going on, simon couldn't take his eyes off. your sweet smell and smile, your rosy and soft cheeks. the way you pointed out everything in that movie.
he remembers when he asked for soap how he should propose to you. he only has 10 minutes before the movie ends. maybe 30? he wasn't paying too much attention to it. soap said, ' I dunno. im single, why the hell are you askin' me?'
not much help, should've asked price before he left. damnnit. he couldn't let this soft moment go by. he needed you to be in his bed with a rock on your finger. nothing else. so maybe now? maybe after the movie? maybe-
'simon. something's poking my side can you see what's under there?' well shit..
might as well get it over with..
'okay. listen to me (reader).' you started to get worried. you knew what simon did as a job. you called it his pew pew job. very accurate if you will. 'simon you're scarin' me..' you whimpered. simon sat up, sneakily pushing the box behind his back. 'nothin' to be scared of.' he assured. 'you know I love you very much right?' you nodded, small tears swelling in your eyes, 'yeah?'
he softly placed the box in your hand. the tears started to flow even more. 'what's this?' you asked, holding the velvet box in your hand. 'I want you to be mine.' he hushed to you, his cheeks getting warm and softer, even with all the scars all over his pale face. 'what do you mean? I am yours!' you squealed.
'I want you to marry me doll..' he mumbled. your eyes opened wide, exposing the tears that have been spilling out. and all of a sudden your eyes are a fountain. you crashed your body into his chest, shaking your head yes as you wailed into his body. ' is that's a yes-'
'YES!'
a/n:it's a series now, gimme gimme GIMME YOUR IDEAS!!!!
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teabutmakeitazure · 24 days
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Roll A Die, Roll A Poison - Evocation and Provocation
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>Yan! Aventurine x Fem! Reader
>Word count: ~2.4k
>a/n: before anyone asks, no this isn't a series. I'm just writing a drabble from the same universe this is not an established series. very subtle yandere themes. just wholesome in general. the backstory of this in my mind is not so wholesome
Part 1
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Intrusive thoughts typically pop in uninvited and leave just as so. You do not let them stay for long lest they marinate and tempt you to cook them to feast on the ‘delicious’ outcome. However… however, this one has been festering in your mind ever since it made itself known. It has started rotting and mould is certainly growing on it, yet you are still allowing it to decay in your mind, waiting for the opportunity to let it seduce you into throwing it onto the grill.
You shamelessly pin the blame on Aventurine. After all, he was the one who said he’d like to experiment hairstyles on your hair, even going as far as to open video tutorials and search appropriate hairstyles for your hair texture. Unfortunately for him, the moment the blond took off his gloves, you had grabbed your hair protectively and uttered something about not trusting anyone with your hair.
Conveniently ignoring the fact that you were invested in which video tutorial he should follow, you declined his offer with a plethora of silly excuses (seriously, why did you say you’re afraid he might end up tangling it horribly? he treats his hair like his first born child he is obviously not so stupid as to do so). Having been let off the hook graciously by your captor unwilling living partner, you had carried on your merry day completely oblivious to the thoughts silently crawling from the dark in your mind.
Now you are here. Side eyeing him as he sheds off his fur lined coat followed by his hat. He turns around, looking at you as he discards his rose coloured sunglasses. The former two are placed onto a chair while the latter is placed on top of them. Irises more vibrant than those glasses remain fixed on you, and you grimace at the way the corners of his eyes crinkle from his smile.
That never happens outside these four walls. He never smiles like that outside.
Though you are lying on the bed with a book lying open over your chest, he makes no move to turn the situation into something intimate. Perhaps all his previous failed attempts have finally taught him something. Or maybe he’s just enjoying the view of you on his bed. He’s a simple minded creature after all.
Aventurine chuckles when you continue giving him a weird look. “You look relaxed.”
“No thanks to you.”
“Ouch.” He turns to the dressing table. First he takes off his wristwatch then his rings. The other accessories follow, and you strike when he least expects it.
“Aventurine,” you call, “I need something.”
He turns to face you instantly instead of looking at your reflection in the mirror like he usually does. At first he searches your face for any hints of what your request could be, yet his gaze drops to the cover of the open book lying on your chest. You close it and place it beside you face down promptly, cheeks burning because it’s one of those smutty romance books that he absolutely does not need to get access to.
Aventurine raises a brow at your antics, but humours you nonetheless. “This is rare. What would a beautiful woman like you need? I hope I’m not lacking in taking care of you.”
“I do agree that your knowledge is lacking in regards to women, but my request is… well, not something typical of me.”
He grows more curious, moving to the foot of the bed as he undoes his thigh garter before moving onto his belt. The two are placed onto the bed before he urges you to continue.
A nervous gulp precedes you voicing your request. The edges of your lips are stopped from scowling at yourself. “I need… I wish to have some time with your hair. There’s something I wish to try out.”
The reaction you receive is him unbelievingly blinking at you. His hands remain over the buttons over his waistcoat, frozen with twitching fingers. “My hair…?”
You sit up, nodding. He recovers quickly, clearing his throat. “My, that’s forward of you. What do you wish to do with it? You aren’t planning to turn me bald, are you?”
“As hilarious as that would be, no.”
“Then?” The waistcoat is unbuttoned, and he is currently shrugging it off. “If I am going to give you some time alone with my hair, it’s only fair I know your intentions.”
You swallow your pride, cursing yourself for tossing such rotten food onto a skillet. “I… I just want to braid it.”
Aventurine looks at you.
You look at him.
Aventurine continues looking at you.
You look at his waistcoat halfway down his arms.
Aventurine blinks at you.
You do not blink back.
“Is that it…?”
You nod at his question, and he clearly looks like he’s holding in a laugh. “My my. You’re being bashful as though you’re asking me to marry you,” he grins.
“This is worse than marrying you.”
“I’m glad to hear you changed your mind on nothing being worse than being mine forever.”
A glare is directed his way. His ability to remember your words is downright disturbing. Nevertheless, he places his waistcoat on the bed before crossing his arms. That damned smile is back on Aventurine’s face. The smile he has when he’s brewing something in his mind. Something that you would definitely not want to ingest.
“On one condition,” he raises a finger. “I want something in return.”
You raise a curious brow. “What would that be?”
 A response is not given right away. Instead he peels off his gloves, placing them next to the waistcoat on the bed. Then, he tilts his head at you before voicing his price. “I want a kiss. On the lips more specifically.”
To say you choked on your words would be an understatement.
He taps his lips with his bare hand, and you make a horrible cringing face. “With tongue would be preferable.”
You shake your head profusely at his demand. What does he take you for? “Absolutely not. Anywhere but your lips is fine. Don't make me regret trusting you enough to ask you for something.”
“Aw.” Aventurine visibly deflates, eyes falling to his discarded waistcoat on the bed. “We've kissed before. I didn't think… wait. You said anywhere but my lips.”
A different meaning of your words comes to mind, and you slap your palm over your mouth in horror. If that devious smile on his face is anything to go by, he's having ideas. “No. Don't get ideas. I do not mean what you think I mean.”
“Relax. So no kiss?”
“No.”
“Not even if I bat my eyelashes all pretty?”
“No.”
He sighs, loud and dramatic on purpose to rile you up. “I still remember the last time we kissed. It felt like you were eating my insides.”
“You had forced it upon me by kissing me first,” you accuse. “I know your games now.”
A finger points in your direction, accusing yet remindful. “I admit I kissed you first, but you kissed me back harder. You were the one who started using your tongue.”
“It was a spur of the moment thing! Don't compare that to now.”
Aventurine sighs wistfully, as though he’s remembering a fond memory. To him it is, but to you it is not. “Don’t be shy,” he coos. “I remember. We were alone, and you were absolutely into it.”
A phantom sensation of his hands all over you returns, the image of his eyes seemingly more vibrant before he closes them and kisses you again accompanying it. It heats your cheeks and renders you unable to hold eye contact with him. Regardless, you clear your throat and try to negotiate again.
After what seemed like forever, he finally settles with a kiss to the cheek as his payment (he declined your insistence to kiss his hand instead). Alas, Aventurine had another demand. To receive his payment after you’re done with his hair. Which brings you here.
He sits cross legged on the bed while you remain kneeled on the mattress behind him. It’s hard to braid his hair. The longer parts are uneven since it’s longer on his right, so you thought you would attempt a messy bun with whatever braid you could make. Unfortunately, that did not work out. The layers poked out and it was mostly just hair poking out and less braid.
A sigh and you try again. “You good back there?” Aventurine’s question is shut down with a harsh ‘shush’ and you return to your battle. Out of pure frustration, you grab the brush and brush back all his hair despite the tangles and the way his head gets pulled back with it.
“Hey, be gentle!”
You simply tut. “This is how mothers make their daughter’s hair in the morning before school. This is a core childhood experience recreation. Savour it while it lasts.”
The pout is evident in his voice. “You’re simply making excuses for being rough.”
All of his hair is grabbed into a half-assed ponytail. Bangs are still poking out and a lot of layers from the side are too short to even be grabbed into it. Seriously, how intricate is his hairstyle? How does the barber even maintain this?
You let go of all of it. Fingers shake the hair to let it settle according to his natural hair pattern, and when you’re satisfied, you pick up a small section from near his bangs. You don’t grab all his bangs, only incorporating some of them and leaving the rest to frame his face.
An idea pops into your head, a good one this time thankfully, and you start creating a dutch braid from there. When you reach the nape of his neck, you realise your mistake and undo the braid just an inch. Then, you try to incorporate the longer strands of his hair into it, yet when it simply pokes out instead of being tamed, you settle with ending the braid at his nape with a low ponytail.
The braid is loosened a little for volume, but you retract your hand when a few strands start poking out. He’s been surprisingly quiet, you note. However, one peek at his face and you see that his eyes are closed.
They instantly open, already side-eyeing you.
“What the hell!”
He chuckles. “What?”
“That’s creepy! Don’t do that again,” you grimace. Aventurine doesn’t seem to mind. He even seems amused.
“So,” he drawls, “may I see the finished product?”
You take a good look at your work. Honestly, his hair is so soft and pretty you’d ask if he could grow it out a bit just so you could braid it more freely. You wouldn’t of course, but it doesn’t hurt to think about it.
You dismiss him, “You’re free to look in a mirror.” As expected, he gets up right away, going to the dressing table and looking at himself with widened eyes. He inspects your work, fingertips gently running over the braid trailing from near his hairline to his nape. The hair in a ponytail is brought to drape over his right shoulder, and he smiles, satisfied.
More of his face is visible with the wispy bangs, but you have to admit. He looks gorgeous. It’s almost unfair that he’s pretty.
“Now then…” Aventurine turns to you, a smile on face as he continues. “My payment for allowing you to have your way with my precious hair.”
On the other hand, you sigh. “I make you pretty and work hard, yet I still get punished. Where’s the worker’s right’s association now?”
“Gone. Decimated. My kiss, dear. Now.”
Your curiosity has led you to this. As you slowly get off the bed and move closer to him, he watches you with attentive eyes. It is when you stand in front of him that he smiles, body language obviously impatient.
Out of simple desire to be generous, you first cup his face then dive in to kiss his left cheekbone. When you pull away after the quick peck, you’re surprised to see his cheeks slowly turning red.
You blink at him in disbelief. “Are you… are you blushing?”
Unfortunately, he recovers quickly as always, deflecting it to you despite his flustered face. “The woman I love just kissed me. Of course I’m going to blush.”
Now you are at the receiving end of embarrassment. It’s unfair. It’s so unfair how he’s still able to stir up feelings within you. It’s unfair how you still care about him. It’s unfair how you can’t let him leave the house without having a proper meal, and it’s unfair that you still send him the same “stay hydrated” sticker on his phone everyday when he’s not around you.
It’s unfair because you want to hate him so bad for what he has done, but you can never forget the questions he used to ask you whenever you both spent time together. They were hushed and quickly brushed off, deemed insignificant after you gave your answer and dubbed “just messing around”. You can never forget them because you know he meant them.
He meant every single one. He just didn’t want you to peel away the layers of his person.
“Woohoo. Aventurine to [Name]? Is there still a signal?”
You snap back, gaze rising from your feet to his face. “Wow, I really lost you there,” he says. “Come on. The kiss wasn’t that bad.”
“You’re right,” you breathe out. After a few seconds of thinking, you excuse yourself. However, as soon as you are out the door, Aventurine’s concern turns into curiosity as he promptly grabs the book you were reading earlier off the bed. A picture of its cover is snapped, and it is placed onto the nightstand.
Unbeknownst to you, Aventurine downloaded a pdf and started reading. Not without taking a picture of your master hairstyling skills of course. While you were regaining your bearings in a different room, he had been searching up summaries and key events of the book.
Perhaps you might be in for a different game next time.
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I love all the headcanons of "Steve is not dumb he's..." Hard of hearing, has poor eyesight, learning disability or his primary language is not English. I particularly enjoyed @dwobbitfromtheshire 's recent headcanon that he's hiding it because his father hates feeling inferior and only Eddie realizes that he is not dumb. But I would like to throw my own hat in the ring.
Steve is not dumb. Actually, he's quite smart and did quite well in school (because his parents would not expect anything less). He just wasn't into nerd culture and everyone just placed their stereotypes and rumours of him being a pretty and privileged rich jock who bought his way out of school but couldn't buy his way into college. Nevermind that he was in the top 10 students of his year and for most of his classes if not topping them and if not he wasn't failing the rest other than one or two science/math-based (rumours say the school forged those marks so that Steve could continue sports) and had a 3.6 GPA. It wasn't enough to get into his Dad's alma mater so his dad dismissed any of the other schools he got accepted into.
He does not try to hide his intelligence from Nancy or the Party, but Nancy had bought into the "Steve is simple-minded " narrative and the like before they got together and failed to realize that they are both in the same AP classes that were full of seniors and in any group or partnered project he more-than-well pulled his weight and had his own insights. So she spreads the narrative to Mike who spreads it to the rest of the party so by the time the events that befan with Dustin asks him for help with his "dog" and developed into concussed in the back of a car while a preteen drove his car, the kids have also bought into parts of the narrative. It doesn't help that he really isn't into the stereotypical nerdy stuff
Even his best friend Robin believed the lie until she worked with him and then got tortured with him by Russians. She eventually realises that he's way smarter in a practical sense than people give him credit for (he did raise himself since he was 11 or so) but does not think of it as stretching into the academic side of his life. She has not stopped calling him "dingus" though.
Eddie on the other hand knows better, which is why when a specific exam was coming up he turned to Steve.
He barged into the Harrington home a day when tye entire party was their.
"Stevie, you either have to tutor me or lend me your notes for this class. I am not failing this class and increasing the possibility of another year at fucking Hawkins."
Mike and Dustin burst out laughing at that before Steve can answer.
"I know you're e bad at that subject, but I didn't realise you were desperate enough to use Steve's notes," Dustin says with that condescending tone that means it should be obvious to Eddie.
Mike snorts at that derisively, "If he even has notes."
"Maybe," Lucas said diplomatically, "there are better options than using Steve's notes?"
Nancy steps up next offering some of her notes and flashcards since she took the class last year/is taking the class, "It's not my strongest subject but if we do a study group I'm sure you won't fail the class."
Eddie stares at the group with growing bewilderment as they agree that Nancy is the best choice while implying that Steve was not. Actually, they were acting as though he was dumb for even asking Steve, which made no sense to him.
Eddie turned his eyes to Steve. His posture by the kitchen island was much more different than when Eddie burst in. He had subtly curled into himself as if to make himself smaller, shoulders tense and a resignation on his face as if he's been through this conversation so many times before.
It was almost as if...
"You guys think that Steve is dumb, don't you?"
There was the type of silence that only comes when the quiet part is said outloud.
"No we don't think Steve's dumb," Robin begins and Eddie can hear the 'but' before she even said it, "But you know he wasn't good at the school part of school."
She continued to ramble on from there but Eddie did not hear any of it. He was too busy reevaluating the group he was with and rechecking old memories and facts to see if there was any inkling of truth to this strange idea that even the older teens should know isn't true.
It took him a moment to find the answer, and when he did he could not stop the derisive laugh that burst out and interrupted Robin's ramble.
"You guys fucking bought into the rumours, didn't you? I expect that from the kids maybe even Johnathan, maybe even Robin because of you became friends after he left school, but not from you, Nancy."
Nancy had that look on her face that she got when she was ready to argue but Eddie steamrolled over it.
"Jesus H Christ! Weren't y'all together for a whole fucking year? How do you not know that he was at the top of his year when you were together? Unless you dismissed that in favour of believing the rumours that his parents paid for his grades and the school wanted to make sure he kept on playing sports?"
He paused for a second waiting for someone to contradict him, but the look on Nancy's face was one of scrambling to defend herself. He sighed at that; she still wasn't getting it and it a sweeping look at the others proved they were lost too.
"Even if they paid off the school he would not have been in the top ten of his year, he would be like Carver and Hagan whose parents paid and their grades were just good enough to get into a decent college without too many questions. And they would not have kept on giving him high grades after he stopped doing any kind of sport in his last 2 years at that dump. Hell if Hargrove wasn't such a fucking beast at sports he would have been told he would have to repeat his senior year with me."
"It's okay Eddie; leave it go." He turned a fake sunny smile with his eyes tightly shut towards Eddie as if to pacify him.
Eddie turned to Steve who had yet to say anything throughout Eddie's diatribe up until that moment. He just continued to robotically make dinner for the party as though nothing was wrong, as though the hurt dripping off him didn't matter.
"I'm not letting this go! They had classes with you, some of which I'm pretty fucking sure were AP classes. If I had the attendance needed I would have graduated last year because of you, Stevie. So excuse me if I'm a bit annoyed that our friends are so blinded by a rumour that they can't fucking see your Salutatorian medal. Hanging. Right. There!"
All eyes except Eddie and Steve's turned in the direction that Eddie pointed at.
And there on the wall, was a framed silver medal with the word "Salutatorian" emblazoned on it. The party immediately burst into chaos amongst each other.
"Now, pretty boy, are you gonna tutor me or what?"
Or it goes something like that, I'm not sure.
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